


Names. Dates. Places.

by Echo



Category: Primeval
Genre: Friendship, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-12
Updated: 2012-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-01 20:27:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Echo/pseuds/Echo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Lester was well aware that Connor needed help, that was why he took him in in the first place. He didn't realise at the time though, just how lost Connor really was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Names. Dates. Places.

"Can I borrow your car?"

Lester angled down the top of his book, so as to look properly askance at Connor. "You most certain can not. I barely trust you to operate my microwave oven Connor, why on Earth do you think I would allow you to drive my car?"

Connor was looking very slightly nervous, standing between the front door and Lester's settee. "You let me use all sorts of expensive equipment at work. What about the anomaly detector? That's much more complicated than a car."

"Yes it is," Lester agreed, "but if you break the detector, you're quite capable of fixing it again. I very much doubt that your skill set extends to automotive repair. Where exactly do you need my car for anyway?"

Connor turned away, patting his pockets. "Nothing. Never mind. I'll just catch the bus."

"Vagrant and delinquent passengers aside, the punctuality of the public transport system leaves a great deal to be desired, and you are still on call. I'd prefer not to have to explain how a creature incursion got out of control because the 12:46 from Finchley was running late."

Connor gave a short, frustrated exhalation. An uncharacteristic action of frustration. That drew Lester's attention. He scrutinized the younger man carefully. Connor dress was noticeably less scruffy than usual. While he was far from immaculate by James Lester's standards, his shirt was tucked in, his jacket matched his trousers, and his hair was combed back into probably the closest state to to tidy that Connor's hair was capable of.

"Where exactly do you need to be?" He asked. Connor looked cagey.

"Just... Out. For a little while." He swiped his phone off the table, checking it briefly for messages, before locking the keypad and dropping it into his right pocket.

"On a date?" Lester prompted, in a tone which was carefully targeted to project an opinion mid-way between indifference and distaste.

Connor was momentarily short of words. "Uh, not exactly a date, no..."

"Not... exactly?" This time, Lester caught Connor's eye. Connor's earlier frustration had faded rapidly, leaving a world weariness that should have looked wrong in such a young face. It should have looked wrong, but then Lester had started to grow accustomed to that expression in Connor's eyes over the past few weeks. Normally it only showed up when Connor thought no one was looking, but this time he wasn't even bothering with a pretense.

"It's the twenty-third of May," Connor stated, as if that explained everything, "so I'm going to the cemetery."

"I can assume it's not a birthday celebration then?" The words were out before Lester really considered them, and he immediately wished them back. Connor, unfortunately, grew instantly defensive.

"I'm going to visit Tom, if you must know. It's the second anniversary of his death today, and I'd like to go see him. If that's alright with you." The last part was clipped, bordering on aggressive, and very out of character for the ex-student, even given his moodiness in recent weeks.

Lester carefully laid his book down, pages straddling the arm rest of the couch so as not to lose his place. "Tom?" Lester prompted, "You mean Captain Ryan?"

Connor looked at him, affronted. "No. Ryan died on the fourteenth of June. That's still three weeks away." He paused for a moment in thought, then, "Well, I suppose he died a few hundred million years before the Gregorian calendar was invented, but it was the fourteenth here when he left so..." he faded off for a moment, then went to collect his key from the bowl by the door.

Lester tried to think back to two years earlier, but couldn't attach the name to any face. "Then who is Tom, exactly?" he asked again.

"Tom Miller." Connor replied, stuffing the key into the pocket not already filled with the mobile phone, "Mate from uni. Caught a dodo, went mad, tried to bite Abby. Remember?"

"Ah," Lester noted, "The young man from the stadium."

"Yeah," Connor echoed, "from the stadium."

As Connor approached the door to leave though, Lester spoke again. "And how exactly do you plan to get there?"

Connor stopped, then tilted his head back in exasperation. "I'm going to walk."

"No, that won't do. It's coming on to rain, and it would be disappointing for you to get wet wearing what I can only assume is the closest thing you have to a presentable outfit." Lester gave an over-exaggerated sigh. "I'll drive you."

Connor turned, stunned. "You don't have to..."

"I think I do. You can't walk in the rain, public transportation is far too unreliable, and I am certainly not going to let you drive my car in an emotionally compromised state." Lester stood and reached for his jacket and car keys. Connor opened his mouth, then closed it again. Lester reached around Connor's shoulder and pushed the door open.

"Will we need to purchase flowers on the way?" He asked. Connor looked temporarily lost at the non-sequitur, then shook his head.

"Um, no. Tom was allergic."

"I see. Perhaps a nice bouquet of antihistamines then?"

\---

The car's CD player, along with a rather pleasing disk of baroque piano, had filled Lester's first half hour of waiting for Connor. Then the promised rain had begun, spitting haphazardly and dampening the thin layer of dust on his windscreen. Lester had waited patiently for several more minutes, watching small droplets of water join others to form larger droplets, charting eccentric paths down the side windows. Still Connor had not returned to the car, and Lester was beginning to wonder if he had any intention of doing so at all. With an inward sigh, he retrieved an umbrella from the boot of his car and went in search of his companion.

He found him easily enough. The weather meant that the cemetery was almost entirely deserted, and Connor in his dark blue clothing stood out starkly with the pale greens and greys of his surroundings. He posed a melancholy picture, sitting just in front and to one side of a small and unremarkable headstone, cross-legged and hunched forward. The fabric of his jacket was slightly darker at the shoulders where the rain had landed, and tiny specks of moisture decorated his hair, reflecting the light into a soft halo. He didn't move until Lester was almost next to him.

"Connor." Lester stated, more to warn the boy of his presence than to elicit a response.

"Lester." The response came anyway, tired and distant.

"I wanted to make sure that you were..."

"Okay?" Connor filled in, glancing up at Lester for the first time.

"Still here." Lester completed his sentence firmly. "You have a tendency to wander off when not closely supervised. I wanted to make sure you hadn't decided to leave by some other means."

There was silence for several seconds, before Connor spoke again. "Last time," he began, voice distant again, "Nick came with me."

"Last time?" Lester asked, then guessed, "Do you mean this time last year?"

"He just sat there watching me for almost an hour, didn't say anything, didn't do anything, until I started crying." Connor continued, showing no sign of having heard Lester at all. "Then he sat and rocked me until I was finished."

Lester raised an eyebrow at that. "I certainly hope you're not expecting me to do the same."

That actually brought a very small smile to Connor's face. "No, I think that would be... awkward." There was even the tiniest spark of light in his eyes, just for a moment, but it was short lived. It faded, along with his smile, back into that dark and pensive expression he had been wearing since Lester had approached.

James cleared his throat. What he was about to suggest could backfire spectacularly, but it was worth a try. "Professor Cutter is buried quite close to here, if you would like to... Talk to him about it."

"No," Connor's answer came a little too quickly. Lester was taken aback, "Not yet. Not until April eleventh."

This second part of the response was particularly odd. "You can't visit his grave until the eleventh of April? Why not?"

Connor looked at him like he was asking for the most self-evident answer imaginable. "Because that's the day he died. April eleventh."

Lester blinked. Connor's mental state was apparently even more fragile than he had previously believed. "Connor, I admire a dedication to routine more than anyone. However, I doubt the professor would have any objection to you visiting more frequently, if you needed to see him."

Connor looked at Lester properly then, impossibly dark eyes shining with fiercely controlled tears.

"If I came here every time I needed to see Nick Cutter, I'd never leave."

\---

They had made it back to the car eventually. Connor was painfully quiet, staring into the middle distance but seeing nothing. It wasn't until Lester pulled into a gravel car park and got out that Connor actually took in his surroundings.

"Why did you stop here?" he asked as Lester opened Connor's door for him.

Lester made sure to catch Connor's gaze before answering. "Professor Cutter is buried just over there."

Connor eyes widened, and his eyes darted to where Lester was gesturing before darting back with extreme anxiety. "But it's not the right day yet. April eleventh."

Lester gave Connor a very intense look. "I understand that Connor, but this... This doesn't count. I'm the one visiting the professor, not you. There are some things I need to discuss with him, and I would appreciate it if you accompanied me." Lester continued to put all the force of his personality into his eye contact with Connor. After a few seconds, Connor dropped his gaze and gave a very small nod.

"Very well then," Lester continued, "this way."

The closer they got the the grave site, the further Connor was hanging back. Nevertheless, Lester kept a steady pace, monitoring Connor from the corner of his eye. It didn't matter if he was a little way back, just as long as he remained within ear shot.

The graves here were newer. The turf laid over the parallel mounds of dirt had the fresh, unnatural look that would only fade with time. The grave markers were simple here too, many of them just place-holders to be replaced with proper headstones once the earth and the family's emotions had settled.

Cutter's grave was very much like these, being only a little more than a month old itself. A simple wooden cross identified it. A headstone had been ordered, of course; Lester and Jenny had arranged it only a few days before she had decided to move on, but it was not yet ready to install.

Lester experienced the familiar uncomfortable lightheadedness which he recognized and associated with his own grief, but willed it back. There was something Connor needed to hear, and he had to hear it today.

Lester cleared his throat loudly, and addressed the earth in front of them both.

"Professor, an issue has come to my attention, and I would like you to resolve it as soon as possible." He risked a glance behind him. Connor was watching, looking surprised at the words spoken so clearly in the still air.

Lester continued, "It seems that there is member of your team experiencing some... difficulties recently. I understand that he has recently lost a very close friend and mentor, a loss which I have come to realise is one of quite a long series of losses. Another of his friends has since distanced herself from him and from the entire team." The truth of it was that he understood why Jenny had left all too well. He had been expecting many more resignations in the days since, and wasn't quite sure what to make of the fact that he hadn't received any.

Another brief glance behind him showed Connor unblinking, rapt, and so he continued in the same loud, carrying tone. "This same team member has now been unexpectedly thrown out of his home, and found himself sufficiently isolated to actually move in with his aloof and distant project leader. I assume you can appreciate the full implications of that for both parties." He allowed himself a quiet smile at that, before continuing a little more gently.

"In addition to this, I am led to believe that his behavior in the field has become increasingly erratic. He has been making rash and dangerous decisions, to the degree that I am concerned that his survivor's guilt may have transfigured itself into a death wish."

Lester took a deep breath. "Professor, I think perhaps it is time you had a long talk with Mister Temple. Sooner rather than later, if you don't mind."

Lester closed his eyes for a few seconds and allowed himself several deep breaths before crouching and gently resting a few fingers on the damp grass. He whispered now, these words not meant for Connor's ears; "I hope you can help him Nick. I don't know who else can."

He stayed like that for a few moments longer, before standing slowly and turning to face Connor.

Connor was completely still. He barely even seemed to be breathing. As Lester drew closer, he saw the tear tracks, the slight quiver in his hands, the rise and fall of his shoulders in time with his uneven breaths. His unreasonably dark eyes staring at him in stunned silence.

Lester let his hand rest on Connor's shoulder as he came close. He squeezed firmly. "I'll be waiting in the car, if you want to take a minute." As he went to step away though, he felt Connor's hand clamp down on top of his own.

He looked over in surprise to see those dark eyes looking right into him. Lost, desperate, frightened.

Hopeful.

Lester gave one of his very particular dramatic sighs.

"Oh, very well then," he murmured softly. He stepped back a pace, then drew the shaking young man into his arms.

Connor rested his head on Lester's chest, and allowed himself once again to be rocked while he cried.


End file.
